Oddities of an Apocalypse
by Freedom Fighter94
Summary: A series of different drabbles looking into the smaller details that one sees in the world of L4D but doesn't necessarily see too much of within the game.


Disclaimer: I own nothing of Left 4 Dead, Valve are the respective owners of all of the L4D characters and related attributes.

A.N: Rated T for now, a series of drabbles looking at the smaller, but equally powerful threads that you don't see too much of in L4D but you happen to notice.

The Children

It had been a relatively easy life for them all, it seemed now. Though of course, not one of them considered it during that easy stage. In fact, as the Infected continued to spread and grow, their old lives without the mindless, aggressive creatures seemed more like a dream – something that they had always wanted, not that they had before. This dream of such a peaceful, loving world seemed so far above them all, into the dark sky which the immortal black clouds seemed reluctant to show even a tiny glimpse of. The saying, 'the light at the end of the tunnel' seemed more ironic now, and like its other counterparts, most of them had lost their inspiration.

"Hey, you alright there kid?" The old man's voice called to Zoey, as she glanced upwards as they ran from the apartment block.

"Yeah, fine!" She called back, despite her dream of such a world, there seemed to be something holding onto her-looking after her. How could have she managed to find three other survivors if not? Alright, so the other special mutations were hardly fair, or kind, but these three seemed their own brand of special too. She never believed that she would, in the future, be running around fighting for her life with three people who ordinarily she wouldn't go near unless it was something family related or accidental. They'd fought their way down an apartment block in hopes of finding safe shelter, but that only led to more treacherous paths through the city.

"C'mon people, let's keep moving," One of the three men said, and then the older man, Bill, stopped dead in his tracks.

"Now what is it old man? You don't need to rest do ya?" Francis, the biker, joked from behind Zoey.

"Don't be an ass, I can hear somethin', and it don't sound too friendly." Bill replied flatly, not turning to them.

"New hearing aid needed, perhaps?"

"One more comment, and I'll put that gun of yours someplace." Bill threatened, though there was a light air to the retort. Louis gave a short laugh, as he tightened his grip on his submachine gun resting by his thigh. Jokes aside, Bill seemed acute to the Special Infected, and was even more reluctant to let his age have any effect on him. A soft growling echoed down and around them, subconsciously the group tightened and the guns rose a little. They'd only been around each other for a few weeks at most, but no one wanted to end up the last survivor in a hostile city. Another growl echoed, but this one was louder, and angrier.

"The little wuss is playin' with us," Francis muttered angrily. As if angered by the name, the roar of the Hunter ripped through the silence, as he launched himself at the biker. Four guns were pulled up, and roared back in a combination of heat, light and metal. The light flooded down the alleyway briefly, and in quick bursts. Unable to use his strength to let him get out of harm's way, the Hunter's body hit the ground, riddled with bullets.

"Isn't it this way?" Zoey asked, nodding towards one of the better lit alleyways.

"Yeah, are we close or what!" Louis smiled, Zoey smiled faintly too – at least someone seemed to take their situation in good spirits.

"We might even find some food too," Zoey commented, they'd been surviving on snacks for the last few days as continual attacks made it very difficult to stop for long periods of time.

"I'm sure we will," Louis grinned, then he glanced to Bill, who was at the current time attending to his cigarette. "You ready to move on?"

"Yeah, don't worry about me, I'll keep up with ya." Bill acknowledged, with that the two younger members relaxed and began to press on, the older two men following steadily. It was a relief to finally feel solid ground that they could see beneath them. Lit streets were still much safer, it made it easier to find and take out the odd stragglers first. The Special Infected also seemed far more reluctant to strike, as the light gave them even more away than their assortment of noises. However, The Special Infected were far more of a problem than anything else, the mere thought of the Infected mutating had made each of the survivors uneasy –even in they didn't show it.

Bill was thankful that when he first realised the Infected were mutating the other three neither panicked nor disbelieved him. After the small time, they trusted each other – the factor that they wouldn't last on their own against hordes of Infected strengthened this bond. Ironically, it was the Special Infected that really tested the bond, forcing personalities to clash and unsure survivors to hesitate.

Streets seemed to hold them back, and encourage survivors on, but nothing was ever untouched by the Infected. Bill flicked his attention constantly around, never lowering his gun, having the two younger members of the group charging down the street first made it both easier and more difficult. They did not have the experience of death and warfare in the same way that he did, but seeing their reaction to some of the gutted corpses, he thought it best sometimes that they had not seen more of this.

"Is it really true that the military is gonna bomb this place?" Louis suddenly asked, as they hurried down a street that once would have been bustling with life. The colours would have lit the street with welcoming warmth, as the chatter and laughter of the socialising habitants filled the air. Now, all the rainbow coloured glass was broken on the floor. Doors and any other gaps boarded up, the only 'decorative' colours on the walls were the bright orange posters by CEDA.

"They haven't said it officially, but what alternative are they planning to come up with? They know more than us, but we all know it's spreading to quick for 'em." Bill replied, picking of another straggler who was leaning on one of the walls of a shop.

"This must've been one nice place; it even has its own ice cream store!" Zoey said, talking aloud the thought that passed through each of their minds.

"You mean they _had_ an ice cream store," Francis said, glancing over to the barely standing store.

"Maybe the Infected liked ice cream?" Louis chuckled; it seemed the worst hit of all the stores on the street. Bill gave a short laugh, a thin wisp of smoke curling out of his barely parted mouth.

"…What do you think happened to the children?" Zoey whispered, her eyes falling on the array of small milk ice lollies meant for younger children. Being barely an adult compared to the other three, but still being classed as a woman not girl, meant the very thought of what happened to all the young kids, younger than three or four years in particular was horrible.

"Zoey, focus girl, this isn't the place or situation to lose your awareness." Bill said sternly, he didn't mean to sound so harsh, but losing your awareness meant you were effectively handing your life over to the Infected.

"Sorry," She replied, though her eyes continually fell back to a small ragged doll slumped by one of the broken walls. The guys pressed on, and although she knew it was stupid, she quickly hurried over to the doll. She reached out with one hand, the other still holding tight to her pistol, and brushed the rubble off of the tiny doll. It looked like a mere plastic creation, but in the dark light, surrounded by the situation, it felt as if Zoey were pulling a child's body from the wreck of the wall. Its brown hair was matted, and bloody, but she still pulled it completely out. Holding it up, its arms and legs fell limp, and its head rolled forwards.

"Mummy…" The doll suddenly croaked, but then it began to repeat over and over again almost hysterically. The volume seemed ridiculously loud, so when something snaked around her waist, her immediate reaction was to cry out, the gun flashing as a few bullets hurtled into the empty area.

"Shush, it's me," Francis whispered, loosening his grip, "We need to keep moving, a Smoker is on our trail." Zoey threw his arm off of her waist,

"Why'd you grab onto me then?" She demanded, Francis simply rolled his eyes like the answer was too obvious.

"Because you weren't answering when I was standing right behind you, you were just staring at that thing and nothing else was working." He stated, Zoey glanced back to the doll, which now was on the floor. Its eyes stared up at her, the fire from a building behind them seemed to make the eyes cry.

"M…um…my…" The doll whispered, staring up at her. Francis tugged on her arm again, swallowing Zoey looked away, and followed him. It was weird, she thought for a moment, a plastic doll proved to be more difficult to her than the endless swarms of Infected. Basic emotions, was her mind's reply, the one thing the Infected have lost.

"Found her! Everyone relax," Francis announced, as the two regrouped with Louis and Bill. Bill seemed to let out a breath, and Louis smiled up at Zoey before he shuffled over to make more space. Both of them were crouching, so both the biker and the girl knelt down.

"How close is it?" Zoey whispered across to Bill,

"I'm not sure, I saw him briefly but then I realised you weren't with us." He replied, then seeing the girl loose heart, he added, "But, he's not too far away from us. We'll find him alright,"

"And what's even better is we're about five to ten minutes away from a safe house," Louis grinned enthusiastically,

"I can't wait to sit down, I hate walking for ages." Francis said,

"Quickly now! Avoid that car," Bill ordered, all of them rising as one movement, the precision of which made it look like it was a co-ordinated rehearsal for a movie. The four shifted across and between the various abandoned, broken down cars. The notorious red car was flashing its orange light, it was trying to lure survivors close so that it could alert the Infected to its location. They hurried down the steps, avoiding the rubble and raced into the large, metal red door. Francis and Bill both gripped the door's handle, Louis managing to get the shot of the day as with a cough, the green gas explosion from the Smoker filled the area by the steps.

"And we're in!" Francis grinned, resting his shotgun over his shoulder.

"Sweet man, sweet!" Louis cheered, ordinarily a heavy silence would've been awkward, perhaps even rude, but the dead silence meant safety. Not that any Infected, regardless of its speciality, could open the heavy door when it was bolted. Zoey sought out food, searching the various small cupboards or right at the back of the metal shelves. Both Francis and Bill sorted out the ammo, and tended to the guns. Louis, after switching the main light on, helped Zoey sorted out some food.

"Pasta seems good, I haven't had Italian in a while, how 'bout you guys?" Zoey asked, checking the pasta to make sure it hadn't gone off.

"Seems good, let's go with that." Louis encouraged, the other two men murmured agreements, but were focusing on the guns. It took a while to heat the water up; she'd used two bottles of water and a spare small gas canister – that once was probably used in a camping cooker. Here, there were no plates or cutlery, instead they would leave the hotter food to cool, before someone would divide it into portions within the pot and two people would eat out of the large pan at once. Everyone had to have the same amount, and the only complaints were made was when the food was still quite hot.

"Zoey, how's your gun with it's ammo?" Bill asked, Zoey checked her pistol first, then the submachine gun.

"Both fine, I might top up the submachine gun though…" She replied, pondering over the decision.

"It all depends on how much weight you wanna be carryin' around." Francis said, whilst chewing on the food.

"True. How much further till we get to the station?"

"It depends on what those blasted zombies have damaged, otherwise we might have a longer journey than expected." Bill spoke,

"It used to be a really good service here," Louis spoke, staring into his portion of pasta. "Mad when people wanted to get where they wanted to go, but the station and trains never let anyone down."

"It's scary, don't you think?" Zoey whispered, "One person getting Infected, and everything that we wanted and demanded from the government, we destroyed. It's only been just over two weeks,"

"And no one's trying to help it."

"That's because they don't know enough about this one, and what they do know they won't tell."

"As long as they're safe and away from the Infected, they can get the military to bomb the places…"

"All those people, they had no choice in this. They just wanted to live the life they wanted," Zoey lifted her gaze to the other, strong metal door. The Infected were close, but not right outside, just slumping around the nearby alleyways. All the four survivors could hear was their groans and moans.

"Me and Francis will pick some off, won't we?" Louis said a while after everyone sat in silence.

"Finally," Francis grinned, plucking up his shotgun. He aimed through the bars, smiling slightly each time the gun let out a deafening blast. Zoey slipped into the tiny bathroom, before she began to furiously scrub at the blood on her hands and arms. She wasn't a clean freak, but hygiene kept the diseases away. There was also the fact that this was still human blood, at least, traces of it was in there. She did not think of herself as a murderer, because if she did not kill them, they would kill her and eventually kill off any other immune or survivors.

That didn't mean she would stop scrubbing as soon as the blood was gone, because part of her was still against the continuous killing. One day, it would just…go away right? But there were still so many blanks, the children being one.

"If ya keep scrubbing that hard, you'll make yourself bleed." A gruff voice spoke solemnly behind her; Zoey glanced into the mirror behind her. Bill stood in the doorway, still smoking his cigarette. Now she looked down, her skin was bright red and raw, slightly embarrassed she placed the old scrubbing brush back down and let the bloody water go from the sink.

"I can't help it," Zoey told him, leaning against the bathroom wall and looking down at the floor by the older man's feet.

"They aren't people any more kid, and there's no way to change that." Bill told her softly,

"I know, it's just…you think of the movies you see, they were my life before this. They've just left us here to die, like everyone else."

"Only if we let them kid, only if we let them." Bill sighed, resting a hand on the younger girl's shoulder, and giving a reassuring squeeze.

"Bill, I know what I did today was foolish, and for that I'm sorry but…" Zoey began, but Bill interrupted.

"We all worry for the little ones, but there's just no way they could've survived…" Bill tried to keep his tone as gentle as possible, the thought was horrific but there was very little to say otherwise. "Think about it kid," Bill continued, making eye contact with Zoey in the mirror. "These…things, they don't think anymore about the fact that there are children. They need no reason, and no excuses to stop themselves. They do as they want, even if they didn't want it before. We are all fighting to survive, these bastards don't care if you can't stop them, or you don't know why all of the adults are scared."

"The poor things," Was all Zoey could manage, the only traces now of children, were the abandoned family houses or playgrounds. The empty swings swaying sadly, as the doors and windows of the houses creaked open and shut. The Infected were more than cruel, in Zoey's eyes, they hadn't asked to be like it but they still ended up like it…slaughtering their own following generation. Children couldn't defend themselves against agile, strong or masses of Infected, children needed protection to grow, and now that protection was only for the adults.

"Rest in peace young ones," Bill sighed, the end of his cigarette glowing a gentle, blood red.

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